


Accidental Tourist Part 2

by basaltgrrl



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-21
Updated: 2010-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-15 10:14:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basaltgrrl/pseuds/basaltgrrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There had to be an aftermath!  One can't just get dosed with LSD and go on with life as usual...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accidental Tourist Part 2

  
  
  
  
**Entry tags:**   
|   
[character: gene](http://community.livejournal.com/lifein1973/tag/character%3A%20gene), [character: sam](http://community.livejournal.com/lifein1973/tag/character%3A%20sam), [fic](http://community.livejournal.com/lifein1973/tag/fic), [fic type: slash](http://community.livejournal.com/lifein1973/tag/fic%20type%3A%20slash), [pairing: sam/gene](http://community.livejournal.com/lifein1973/tag/pairing%3A%20sam%2Fgene), [rating: brown cortina](http://community.livejournal.com/lifein1973/tag/rating%3A%20brown%20cortina)  
  
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**Accidental Tourist Part 2 - The Voyage Home, Brown Cortina**   
_   


Title: Accidental Tourist Part 2  
Word Count: 3562  
Rating: Brown cortina  
Pairing: Sam/Gene  
Summary: There had to be an aftermath!  One can't just get dosed with LSD and go on with life as usual...

Here it is, for those of you who were awaiting it...  
And once again thanks to Fawsley for beta words of wisdom!

[community.livejournal.com/lifein1973/1977993.html](http://community.livejournal.com/lifein1973/1977993.html)  
 

“So.”

“We should go to work, then?”

“I reckon.”

“Okay.  Together?”

“You go in first.  I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Well.”

A quick kiss, tasting of coffee and toothpaste.  Gene avoided Sam’s eyes.  Sam breathed his own soap on Gene’s skin and wondered what the future held.

 _Fuck.  Fuck.  Bloody hell.  Fuck.  It’s all wrong, everything is wrong.  I can see him, sitting at his desk, talking to Annie bloody Cartwright as if last night never happened, and I am here at my desk and it’s all wrong.  How do you go on?  I need a drink.  I need a bottle.  Fuck.  Paperwork.  Bloody paperwork, and I just can’t bring myself to care right now, because I’m looking at Sam bloody Tyler and he’s smiling at her._

 

It was weird to be in CID, doing the normal things (more or less) after what had happened that morning.  Gene had the luxury of retreating to his office, looking no worse for wear than he did after the average bender although Sam fancied he could detect something in Gene’s demeanor.  But then it would be easy to project, just now.  He was concerned enough that Annie would detect something in his own behavior.

He had no regrets, no fears or denials rattling through his mind; the whole thing had been simmering too long and had come to a boil, no doubt about that.  And the idea of being with a man was not unwelcome.  He had just never expected it of Gene, despite the crackling energy every time fist collided with body.  It was that unexpected nature of the thing that made him hesitate.  Was it something Gene wanted to do again?  Maybe right now, but in a week, as the acid trip faded into the background and old habits took over?  And was it something he would tolerate, given the generally homophobic atmosphere of CID?  And he had to admit to himself that it would only get harder to let go if they kept on.

But they had things to do.  There was the case Gene had been undercover on.  There was an abduction with some very sketchy leads which needed footwork and digging and a ridiculous amount of talking to assorted characters on the street.

Sam went out with Annie on that one, for which he was both relieved and concerned.  Gene’s look had said words, but they seemed to be in a language he didn’t know.   He could do nothing but shrug it off and get on with work.  Annie seemed to have detected the look; she said nothing as they took the lift and left the building, but once in the car she leaned over and put a hand on his arm.

“Is Gene on your case, Sam?”

He flinched and gave her what he was sure must be an absolute comic doubletake, and then realized what she meant.  “Well, no more than usual,” he choked out.

She crooked an eyebrow at him. 

“Really.  It’s business as usual around here.  Maybe I did something to piss him off.”

“Well, if that’s your story…”

He sighed.  He should have known better.  “You know how he is.  I can’t read his mind; how do I know what he’s thinking?”

“So he’s thinking something, then?”

“And so should we be.  About who to talk to, at the Walker place.  Come on, Annie.  We’ve got a job to do.  I can’t let Gene stop me from doing that.”

“Don’t think he’d be stopping you, Sam.  I just wondered if he was pushing you to be doing more than you already are.”

“He’s _always_ pushing me,” Sam said, with a little more force than he meant to have.

“I know,” she sighed.  “I feel for you, Sam.  I really do.  I think you have the hardest job of all of us.”

He thought about just telling her everything; telling her just how strange this morning had been already, just how impossible it had been to take any other course, and just how confused he felt at the moment.  And then he didn’t.  It just seemed so completely inappropriate for the work environment and the job they were on.  He put a hand on her shoulder, keeping his eyes on the road, and she touched his hand with hers and that was it.

They arrived at the Walker residence and there were at least six people who needed to be interviewed.  Between the two of them they worked it out, kept accurate notes and broke away at three in the afternoon realizing that they had skipped lunch entirely.

“I could eat a horse,” Annie confessed.

“Me too,” Sam replied, and pulled over at the nearest pub.  They spent the meal chatting about movies and work.  Sam felt a weird pseudo-guilt about the length of time away from the office, but it was not unusual to stop for food when necessary, and they had got a lot of work done.

 

“What took you two so bloody long?” Gene barked at them the moment they entered CID.

“Lots of interviews, Guv,” Sam answered, trying to read Gene’s expression.

“My office.  Now.”

Gene closed the door behind them, stalked behind his desk and back again, glared sideways at Sam but didn’t speak.

“It was a productive day,” Sam offered at last.

“Was it?”

“We got some information that will lead us to the next level on this one, I’m sure.”

Gene stood with the kind of glare on his face that normally got men punched or cuffed.  Sam took the glare, trying to respond with a neutral, what-the-hell-is-this-about kind of look, and wondered if he should make the first move.

 

 _Tyler.  Bloody Tyler.  He sits there.  He crosses his legs, he crosses his arms and he sits there like a bloody statue.  I don’t know where to go with this._   _I just can’t do normal.  Want to throw him through the wall, I do.  No.  I want to kiss.  Want to kiss.  Want to bite, want to—bloody hell.  We cannot go on like this.  I cannot.  Shite.  He’s been talking this whole time and I didn’t hear a word._  

 

“All right.  Back to work.”  Gene sat down and dug into his piles of paperwork and Sam stood to let himself out, nettled.  It was clear that there was subtext in everything today, and equally clear that Gene wasn’t going to address any of it.  Yet.

“Pub,” Gene announced to the office at 5:30.  Sam eyed him as they all put on their jackets and tidied up their desks.  It did seem like business as usual.  Was Gene looking a little more grumpy?  More than this morning?  More than midday?  Sam was tired of having to (or trying to) read his mind.  He had asked the right questions that morning – the questions about whether this was wise, whether they could deal with the repercussions.  But he hadn’t pushed for the real answers.

Once at the Arms Gene played cards, but with a grudging silence.  When Sam ducked out after a couple of hours Gene’s glare burned the back of his neck like a brand.  He felt guilty for no reason whatsoever.  Or at least that’s what he told himself; but wasn’t it right to act as if nothing had changed?  Was there something else he should be doing?  Something he should be saying to Gene?  They certainly weren’t going to resolve anything without talk, and there had been no chance all day – certainly not that moment in Gene’s office with the way he looked.  Maybe he had been regretting that anything ever happened.

 

 _Last night the walls were breathing, and today it’s just mind-yer-own-business, get some work done and fuck off to the pub?  Bloody hell.  Now I know why people get hooked on this shite – it’s too hard to go back.  Another pint.  Need it.  And a slash.  Fuck.  Tyler looks like he’d be out of here like a shot.  And there he goes.  Not a backward glance.  And I am left holding the cards and wondering why I can’t stop thinking about his neck.  Bastard._

At least Sam’s walk home was a bracing slap in the face; rain and a brisk north wind, and his leather jacket didn’t help much with either once it was wet through.  Once back at his flat he kept busy with drying things off, wringing as much water as possible from the leather and hanging it, changing out of his wet things and into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.  It was late enough to be bedtime, but he wasn’t ready; just restless with all the things said and unsaid from the past day and a half.

There was a knock on his door and when he opened it Gene stood there – not leaning on the frame, or cocking a fist, or anything.  Just waiting.  Warily.  It was a relief to see him, despite the dark expression.

Sam stepped back.  “Come in?”

“Right.  So.  You had your fun, that it?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You.  Leaving.  Me.”

“What, at the pub?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Don’t our lives go on?”

“I meant it,” said Gene, tight-lipped.  “What I said, this morning.”

“I know you did,” Sam sighed.

“I still mean it!”

“It just seems like we should wait—“

“What, are yer gonna barricade your door when I leave tonight?”

“Do I need to?”

“You tell me!”

“Gene.  It’s not that I don’t want you.  We work together, for chrissakes.  We are already together for at least ten hours a day.  What’s going to happen when we’re together for twenty-four?  What were you doing today, for instance?  Working, or brooding about last night?”

“Brooding?  That what you call it?  Like I have a choice in the matter?”

 “Gene!” Sam snapped.

“What???  What do you want from me!  You want me to say this was nothing, that it meant nothing to me??  Well I can’t!”  He glared with barely veiled violence, and Sam fully expected a grab-and-throw to follow, but then Gene turned and stalked out the door and Sam realized that the entire conversation had taken place without any physical contact.

He stood stunned, for a long moment, then ran down the hall.  Gene had reached the front door, had his hand on the knob – but he had stopped, resting his head against the door.  Something beaten in his stance.  Sam watched his shoulders shake and felt an indefinable emotion wash over his own body.  Everything went oddly still except for the thump of his heartbeat. 

 

 _I’m lost.  Gonna walk home in the rain to my empty house.  Gonna walk home alone.  I’m lost.  Fuck.  Never again, never look at him again, never think about that morning… Never take drugs again.  That, at least I can do.  But to never look at him again… oh bastard.  Why did this happen to me?  I’m lost._

 

He went down the hall, each footfall soft on the carpet.  Gene’s shuddering breath was loud in the confined space.  Sam felt as if he was approaching a wild animal, or an injured one.  He watched his own hand rise up and settle on Gene’s shoulder.  For a moment he wondered if Gene would hit him, but then decided he didn’t care.

“Gerroff,” Gene muttered brokenly.

“Gene,” said Sam softly.  “Please look at me.”  Gene made a choked noise.  Sam put both hands on him, leaned in, slowly slipped arms around his width, ended up with his face against the back of Gene’s neck.  He could feel the shaking, barely restrained.  Not restrained at all.  Gene was crying.  Quietly, as if it hurt him to do it, but without control or intent.

Sam thrummed with  the desire to make things better.  “I’m not going anywhere.  I’m here, Gene.  I’ve got you.”

“I’m just so lost!” he said on a shaking breath.  “Drugs… no good.  Messed up life… “

“You’ll be OK.”

“Can’t work… can’t deal wi’ it.  Can’t focus…”

“It’ll get better.”

“Can’t!”

“It will.  It’s only been a day.”

“You wouldn’t look at me all mornin’.”

“I was on a case!”

“I gotta… go away.  Or you do.  Can’t… work, thinkin’…  My brother.   I don’t know which drugs,  but it was drugs.  All kinds of drugs, and it was the ugliest thing I ever saw.  When he’d be passed out.  Or looking at things without really seeing ‘em.  I can’t go that road, Sam.  I can’t.  And I don’t want to do this shite ever again, but I feel like it changed me forever.”

“I’m sorry about your brother.”

“Too bloody right.  And then there’s _you_ …”

“Me?”

“I wanted…” he heaved a huge sigh.  Pressed his head harder against the door.  Whispered, “Wanted to touch you.  All day.  Couldn’t stop thinkin’.”

Sam breathed out, eased a hand up to rub circles on Gene’s back.  “I just thought we should maintain a little distance.  I thought you might need to get your feet back on the ground after that.  You didn’t want to take drugs—I didn’t know how much of yesterday was you and how much was the acid.  Gene.”  Sam shook him gently.  “The idea of having more of that fills me with…”  He broke off in frustration.  “Fills me with excitement.  Fear.  Eagerness. But I’m scared, too.”

Gene twisted around all at once, red-eyed and full of fury.  “You’re scared?!  Bloody hell, Tyler!  Me mind’s messed up, I can’t function, and I just fucked my DI in the arse this morning!  I highly doubt your day has been as big of a bastard as mine!”

Sam gave him a shove back against the wall.  “In case you don’t remember, the arse-fucking was your idea!”

“Well—“  Gene seemed at a loss for words.  “You—you make me touch you all the time!”

“I _make_ you???”

“Yeah!  Pushing me, all the time.  From the moment I laid eyes on you!  Stalking in like you owned the place!  Damn you, Sam Tyler!  I’ve ‘ad men.  I’ve ‘ad women.  Never wanted one like that before.”

“You surprise me all the time.”

“Vicey versa!”

“So it wasn’t just… the drug?”

Gene turned his head away, brushed hands quickly across his face.  “No,” he said at last.  “No.”

“You were—have been, attracted to me?”

A long pause.  Gene seemed to be studying the far corner of the ceiling, his mouth working.  “I said so, didn’t I?”  It came out defiant, but his face told a different story.  “Not a good idea, though, at work and all.  But… this morning I wasn’t thinking about anything else.  Just there.  In yer bed.”

Sam closed his eyes, feeling that moment, how impossible it had been to say no.

“I want,” said Gene, “to be there again.  And I don’t.  Gotta figure this out, Sam.  Gotta make it work.”

Sam leaned in, pulled Gene’s head down to touch foreheads together.  Gene allowed it with a tremulous reluctance.

“Come to bed, then, Gene.” 

“You’re… willing?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re OK with… the arse-fucking?”

“Oh yeah.”  Sam smiled wryly, and leaned in for a kiss. 

Time seemed to slow as they kissed.  It evolved, first lips and tongues, then Gene’s hand clasping Sam’s neck, then Sam stroking Gene’s shoulders, his hips – a thigh pressing between legs.  “I think we should change locations,” Sam panted at that point.  Gene gave a wordless nod.

Back in Sam’s flat Sam unbuttoned Gene’s shirt slowly, fizzing with anticipation.  Gene still looked ragged, his breath hitching in his chest.  Sam kissed him gently between each unbuttoning.  Slipped the shirt off his shoulders.

Sam pushed him to the bed, helped him lay back, then bent to slip off his shoes and socks.  Gene watched him the entire time.  Sam undid Gene’s belt, his flies, and tugged gently on his trousers.  “Hips,” he murmured, and Gene lifted them.  The trousers slid down, leaving Gene dressed only in his y-fronts.  He looked raw, scared and wanton all at once.  And Sam leaned over him and licked the bare skin above his hip, nuzzled across his belly and downward to press his face against the bulge in the y-fronts.  Gene took in a choked breath.

“Yeah, I still want this,” Sam said.  “I want you.”

“Dunno why.”

“Oh, god, Gene…” Sam slithered up his length, pressed his own erection against Gene’s crotch and their faces together, and they were kissing.  Softly at first.  Sam pressed Gene’s lips, nipped his nose, his closed eyelids.  Kissed a line down his cheek and back to his lips, and then there were tongues and tastes of whisky and curry and hands stroking and clasping.

Sam broke away, scrambled back down and took the y-fronts with him.  Gene’s cock was thick and hard and he licked a swath of it, then gently took the head into his mouth and held it, looking up the length of Gene’s body into his eyes.

“Sam,” Gene whispered.  “Sam, I want you to fuck me.”

Sam closed his eyes, took Gene deeper into his mouth, as deep as he could and then some.  Then pulled off, sat back, looking at the spectacle of naked Gene in his bed.  “I gotta get prepared,” he smiled, and began unbuttoning his own shirt, taking his time.   He divested himself of trousers with a flourish.

 “I want you on your hands and knees,” Sam murmured.  “Yeah.”  They shifted, and Sam extracted the tube of lube from under the bed.  He ran a hand down Gene’s back, over the curve of his arse, down one long thigh.  He stroked, ran a finger gently down his crack and followed it with his tongue. 

Gene groaned when Sam pressed a finger into him, and shivered.  “That OK?”

“Yes.  Go on.”

Sam worked two fingers in, almost holding his breath.   Gene shifted and made noises.  They sounded like pleasure; Sam added a third finger.  The entire scene was almost otherworldly – the place and the time and the man before him, violent and scorching and magnetic, and Sam could not believe that he had the incredible privilege of doing this thing. 

“I’m so glad…” he breathed, and at the same moment Gene spoke.

 “Sam.  Please… put your cock in me.”  Spoken softly, almost reluctantly.  But there were the words.

And then he was slicking his cock, pressing it against Gene’s hole, watching the way Gene’s shoulders shifted and tightened.  “Oh, god.”

“Unh.  Please,” Gene gasped.  “Not too hard.”

“Sorry.”

“Just—not used to it.  Oh.  Unh, do that again.”

They lived for a while in a world of slow motion, every shift and thrust muted and drawn out, and it was mesmerizing.  Sam would not have changed his pace had Gene not pushed back at him, urging him on.  And that was another world, of heat and panting.  Sam found himself making gutteral noises, closing his eyes but then opening them because he could not stop watching.

He wasn’t going to last much longer.  Too much, desired for too long, and he remembered to lean forward and get his hand on Gene’s cock and work it to the rhythm of his urgency.

“Oh god, Gene, oh god I’m coming I’m fuckin’ coming…” And Gene groaned and suddenly was spilling on his hand and they lost themselves together, the bed creaking beneath them and the street noises out in the darkness and the smell of damp wallpaper, but none of it mattered.

Sam heaved a huge breath, pried himself off of Gene’s back and pulled out.  Gene collapsed forward and rolled half on his side, holding out an arm toward Sam.  They found a position that didn’t hurt either of them too much, awkward and cramped but together, and just lay breathing for a while.

“We have to keep doing this,” Gene said at last.

Sam nodded.

“Promise me we’ll keep doing this.”

“We will.”

“I don’t want to wonder if you’re going to start shagging Annie Cartwright.”

Sam smiled against Gene’s neck.  “I’m not.”

“I don’t want to wonder where you are at night.”

“I want to… know that you will still be OK with this.  Sex with another man.  Later.  When it’s not a new thing.”

 “Told you, I’ve ‘ad men before.”

“Surprised me.”

“Been a long time.  Didn’t know it would happen again.”  Gene turned and smashed his face against the side of Sam’s, bit his ear.  “I can’t stop doing this.  I don’t want to stop doing this.  Want you in my bed.  In my house.”

Sam stared up at the ceiling, at the cracked plaster, at the stained wallpaper, at the shapes of light cast by the floor lamp.  “I want to be in _your_ bed, Gene,” he said at last.

“Yeah.  Tomorrow night, then.  Pack a bag.”

“Yeah.”

 

 

In the morning Gene was fitted against Sam’s back like a spoon.  Sam opened his eyes, wiggled, and Gene murmured, “She was here again.”

“Was she?” Sam wondered.  “I slept.”

“Yeah.  Didn’t stay long, when she saw me.”

They lay there pressed together.  Sam thought about coffee, about taking a piss, about what time it was and when they should go to work and how they would handle it today.

“I’ll fry some eggs if you make the coffee,” Gene breathed, and rubbed his cock enticingly against Sam’s arse.

Sam smiled into the pillow.  Apparently they would work it all out, one way or another.

 


End file.
